A Theology of Poetry
by
Mr. Robert Curtis, O.P.
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Paul Tillich was purported to have written, “Ordinary language is not a medium of revelation.”
To this particular point, let us recall the theological reality in which Christ emptied himself to take on the form of a slave, meaning, of course, his humanity. The emptying of divinity, in the sense that a change takes place to include the state of humanity, is an aspect of revelation; and while a simple declarative statement of this reality imparts the nature of the change, it cannot adequately deal with the plethora of connotations, which stem from it.
Ordinary language falls short.
In addition to this, between the emptying of divinity and the taking on of humanity, even while maintaining a totality of both states in His person, something transformative happens, by which a simple statement of fact cannot capture.
Our own consciousness is capable of engaging these two basic forms of reality—the temporal and the divine. However, in our temporal reality, human beings are capable of registering only about 7% as estimated in the amount of the total visible light spectrum our eyes can see. Without the help of instruments, therefore, we witness only a fraction of the reality created for us. By the same token, and even more dramatically, we perceive the divine reality through the use of our reason, limited as it is, “cloudy, as in a mirror.” (2 Cor 3:18)
To aid in the understanding of this in-between, which is directly pertinent to our role as preacher poets, let us turn to the science of quantum physics. Without us going into the deep-seated and complicated mathematics, quantum physicists have theorized that, at the foundation of reality, i.e. between the finite and the infinite, below the level of molecules, atoms, and the separate parts of atoms, there exists an entity known as the quanta. The quanta are manifested as packets of energy, which make up all of known reality. However, when we, as humans, observe the quanta—read closely—they re-manifest themselves as particles.
Though some scientists believe that this action may have something to do with our observational techniques, many others don’t. Thus, this discovered scientific fact has almost unimaginable ramifications for both our view of reality and the relationship of human consciousness to it, and to divine reality as well.
To re-iterate, the very foundation of our created reality is manifested in wave form until we look at it, then it becomes particle or solid. If our own temporal reality is dependent upon our human consciousness, how much different is the meaning of the Scripture that Man was, “created in His image,” that is, in the image of the Creator of all? According to discoveries in quantum physics, we are at the heart of reality’s practical manifestation.
As far-fetched as this theory sounds, and not all scientists agree with it, physicists have found that the quanta take on almost intelligent actions in different situations. For example, a single quantum shot toward a plate with two windows in it passes through both windows simultaneously. Also, when quanta are introduced into a very volatile plasma field they take on an almost defensive posture as if fighting for their continued existence. This intelligent action is part of what fosters the Intelligent Design theory, which, of course, holds that the incipient, ordered design of the universe represents the imprint of the Creator. If human consciousness affects quanta so spectacularly, how much more is the meaning of the Psalm (8:4-5), “What are humans that you are mindful of them, mere mortals that you care for them? Yet you have made them little less than a god, crowned them with glory and honor”?
Metaphor, Music, and Mathematics
This same classification governs aspects of our human communications. Metaphor, music, and mathematics all exhibit that in-between or intercessory function in our natural communications with God. This extra-natural communication has been a part of our faith from the beginning. Anthony Kelly, CssR writes:
“That the authentic witness of faith makes wonderful alliances with the poetic can
hardly be doubted, least of all in the Scriptures themselves. The sacred writings
of Israel have been lovingly incorporated into the Christian Bible as the ‘Old
Testament’. Its psalms are the heartbeat of daily prayer. The great prophecies of
Isaiah, the erotic tenderness of the Song of Songs, the wonderful contemplative
meditations of the books of Wisdom and the bracing melancholy of Ecclesiastes
– all have entered the bloodstream of the life of faith.” The E.J. Cuskelly Memorial
Lecture, May 2001 (printed in Compass 35/2, Winter 2001, 3- 13.)
Metaphor is defined rudimentarily as a figure of speech that is used to refer to something it does not literally denote in order to suggest a similarity. An example is Martin Luther’s, “A mighty fortress is our God.” Literally, of course, God is not the mortar and stone of a fortress, and while we could have said, “Our God is big and strong,” it somehow falls short in poetic attempt. But the image of a fortress as applied to our understanding of the ethereal God elevates and makes concrete the notion of God as protector. This in-between elevating is the extra-natural aspect of metaphor that gives us communications beyond our respective tongues. Anthony Kelly, CssR asks:
“How does poetry affect our language? At some level, it brings a renewal, a new charge of feeling at the deepest registers of our being.” (Anthony Kelly, CssR, “The E.J. Cuskelly
Memorial Lecture,” May 2001 (printed in Compass 35/2, Winter 2001, 3- 13.)
Metaphor is therefore all-inclusive because it elevates and registers in the deepest levels. While it is important to understand the nature of metaphors, we must always take care to minimize the risk of altering actual denotation, which would serve only to perpetually confuse the language. Metaphors are understood as separate, completely conditional entities with meanings that are always contextual and somewhat subject to individual interpretation.
Music, as an extra-natural language, exists to manipulate acoustical frequencies to give meaning to sound above the mundane chaos of noise. Particular chords derive cultural meaning, which may sometimes derive a universal. Chords, their progressions, melodies, rhythms, etc. give us a ‘sense’ of sound, a connotation of sound, in other words, the organization of sound out of chaos.
The science of mathematics is concerned with the logic of quantity, arrangement, and shape. As such, mathematics possesses the capability of classifying all of creation existing within space and time.
Theoretically, infinity or eternity might actually be a quantity (albeit, a rather large one!), or it may have a shape, or at least, it must have some sort of arrangement. The question, thus, is does mathematics possess any possibility of classifying super-nature? Is there one set of physical laws for creation and another for super-nature? Or does one set of laws encompass the incomprehensible whole?
Traditionally God is seen as existing outside of space and time, but with new discoveries in quantum physics, the quanta may well be the actual imprint of God. If this is so, then the process of quanta building into the vast myriad of elements, molecules, and chemical structures that make up the known universe, almost logically impels it to be the result of intelligent design. This is why we note that the more mathematicians, quantum physicists, and cosmologists discover, the more they talk about the divine. In fact, the world’s best-known cosmologist, Stephen Hawking stated that the religious implications of his work could not be denied.
So what does all this have to do with poetry? Very simple: metaphor, lyricism, and rhythm.
Metaphor, Lyricism, and Rhythm
Each of these aspects of poetry is extra-natural, which is what gives the art form its ability to act as a vessel of faith. The encyclical, Dei Verbum says of sacred writing, “For truth is set forth and expressed differently in texts which are variously historical, prophetic, poetic, or of other forms of discourse”.
Metaphor we understand as the language of poetry, lyricism is the music of poetry, and rhythm is a precise mathematical endowment given to poetry. With regards to this endowment, however, it must be understood that mathematics in its purest form does not ultimately reduce its classification of creation to the irrelevant. Once the quantum state is reached, the classification of creation reveals the ultimate reality, which, of course, is God or the reflection of God, what I call the imprint of God.
The notion that this extra-natural communications is not entirely new is explored in Professor Douglas F. Ottati’s far-reaching book, Hopeful Realism. Curtis W. Freeman, in his review of the book writes:
“Three convictions guide this study. The first is that in the construal of God and the world
the Christian theologian draws from the church’s poetic imagery contained in Scripture,
tradition, and experience. This hopeful conviction resists evangelical and empirical
reductions of theology to literal or scientific statements. The second is the belief that
Christian theology has a practical aim. This realistic conviction demands more than a
restatement of the received tradition, characteristic of simple narrative theology, and
requires theological expressions that are broadly intelligible to those outside the believing
community. The third is the conviction that when theology makes use of the church’s poetry
it results in a particular standpoint of life-before-God-and-God-before-life. This stance,
which resists both naive optimism and cynical pessimism, is what Ottati calls hopeful
realism.” (Curtis W. Freeman, Theology Today, October, 2001)
Metaphor
In Scripture, these three extra-natural aspects of communications are found in the revelation of the Divine Word. We see in Exodus, God appearing to Moses as a burning bush. This is a metaphor chosen by God to represent His eternal glory (self-sustaining fire) within the context of the natural world (the bush).
The Christological representation of Christ as the Lamb is a metaphor for the sacrifice just as the metaphor of bread and wine represents His person prior to its transubstantiation to the Real Presence for the purpose of manifesting the Divine communion (flesh and blood—Christ, within each of us—food).
Actions translated as literal miracles also have metaphorical meaning. The feeding of the five thousand is a good example. Here, we have the manifest power of Christ, commanding the Apostles, which resulted in the outpouring of abundance of the people, which resulted in the collection of twelve baskets of left-overs. The abundance stems directly from Christ.
Demons into swine, Peter’s failed walk on the water, and a whole plethora of other events have metaphorical meaning, which teaches us beyond the literal actions of the event.
Thus, the metaphor is utilized between Man and God as extra-natural communications and is one of the key elements of our use of poetry when preaching the Gospels. This is Ottati’s point, that Church theology (and I believe he means evangelical protestant Church theology) suffers from its lack of poetry. Reading the Catechism of the Roman Catholic Church or the Compendium of the Social Doctrine or any of the encyclicals reveals the abundant use of metaphor and imagery, their very foundations poetic, as they search for meaning from God.
Saint Thomas Aquinas has a slightly different view of the relationship between poetry and theology. “Aquinas believed that while poetry and theology are not the same, for poetry lacks the truth while theology embodies it, he thought that both poetry and theology called for the use of analogies or metaphors. Precisely because poetry's lack of truth means it can never speak of the truth directly and the overwhelming nature of the truth in theology makes direct speaking of the truth impossible...both poetry and theology demand more of the human intellect than it is capable of performing, a weakness Aquinas identified with because he often practiced the process of gaining knowledge through the material-to-abstract transformation.” (Wit and Mystery: A Revaluation in Mediaeval Latin Hymnody, Walter J. Ong)
Even in translation, we find metaphorical meaning. Take the Nativity. The crude Greek used in the Gospel story to describe the place where the infant Jesus laid literally translates to a, “pile of hay.” English translations, however, use the word “manger,” which elevates the meaning of a “pile of hay.” Manger, from the old French, is the trough used to feed animals. Placing the hay in the manger, thus, elevates the place of Christ’s birth to one that feeds the world through His person who lay upon the hay as a newborn infant.
Lyricism
Lyricism is the musical quality of a poem. The sense of the flow of a poem through the use of meter and word order establishes its lyricism. We find this quality in the Psalms, which are prayers meant to be sung. We need only look as far as the Twenty-third Psalm to hear the distinctive lyricism:
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How many hymns and songs have been written from this Psalm? The flow of the words lends itself to music. Also, use of the King James’ English, in this particular case, helps in establishing the flow as the words manifest not only a rhythmic pattern but also alliteration along the word ends. The metaphors are abundant—the valley of the shadow of death—the most well known among them. Here is an example of a song written using Psalm 23:
The use of metaphors in the song is much less than in poetry, but music does not rely on metaphor as much as poetry.
In the following example from Nobel Prize winner (1995) Seamus Heaney, we see both an abundance of metaphor and a delicate lyricism:
Rhythm
For those who pray the Liturgy of the Hours on a daily basis, the cadence or rhythm of the Hours becomes a familiar aspect of the ritual. Beyond this, there is a larger rhythm in the Church that parallels the cycle of seasons—the Cycle of the Liturgical Year. Rhythm is natural to us, experienced even prior to birth in the beating of our mother’s heart. As infants, a mother’s song, rocking, and petting, are all used to calm us. Nursery rhymes, with their sing-song lyricism, accompany us through childhood. As teenagers, the maddening pounding rhythm of rock music (or its postmodern derivatives) keeps us in touch with organized chaos. As adults, we have our own music, jingles, the rhythm of traffic and taxes, we might better appreciate poetry itself, Shakespeare, or other literature. The rhythms of our lives are the rhythms of creation and when we pay particular attention to rhythm—which we call meter—in the crafting of poetry, we close the gap between God and Man.

Following is an example of one of my own poems, which illustrate the dynamic of meter as accomplished by a carefully constructed internal rhyme and alliteration:
Conclusion
Poetry is fundamental to our language and to our communications with the numinous or ethereal. With poetry, we are able to express the inexpressible, capture the mundane and elevate it to the realm of beauty. Poetry is our translator. It allows us to see and feel, and maybe even wrap ourselves in the cloths of heaven as W.B. Yeats wrote:
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“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the
paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the
shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art
with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence
of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil;
my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the
days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the
Lord for ever.”
Psalm 23
By John Michael Talbot
The Lord is my shepherd,
I shall not want,
Beside restful waters,
I am there;
In the pasture of plenty,
My soul lies down;
So come all you thirsting,
Your soul shall be refreshed,
And come all you weary
And be healed
For though we walk in the
darkness now
No fear shall triumph
If the light of His love
Be at our side;
The Lord my shepherd
I shall not want
Beside restful waters
I am there;
In the pasture of plenty
My soul lies down;
And come all you hungry
At the table find His bread
And come now be anointed
Overflow, with His goodness
and kindness
For the rest of your years
As you dwell within the House
Of Our Lord;
The Lord is my shepherd
I shall not want
Beside restful waters
I am there
In the pasture of plenty
My soul lies down
In the pasture of plenty
My soul lies down.
St Francis and the Birds
By Seamus Heaney
When Francis preached love to the birds
They listened, fluttered, throttled up
Into the blue like a flock of words
Released for fun from his holy lips,
Then wheeled back, whirred about his head,
Pirouetted on brothers’ capes.
Danced on the wing, for sheer joy played
And sang, like images took flight.
Which was the best poem Francis made,
His argument true, his tone light.
Under Foot
(the Burial of St. Dominic)
By Mr. Robert Curtis, O.P.
sandaled steps in sleepy-eyed
shuffle, amid falling leaves,
and a breeze that catches the
soulful tolling of the bells;
these plastered walls, stone
faced, ringing down his song,
their path long through the
dust of the foot soldier’s road;
they carried him to a bench,
his last breath, the word they
heard for the courage to
carry the torch two-by-two;
and those sandals he shared,
through village and town,
until stricken down and his
one last wish—but to be
under foot..
He Wishes For the Cloths of Heaven
By William Butler Yeats
HAD I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.